


Wild and Wonderful

by sexnachos



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Appalachia, BDSM, Butt Plugs, Choking, Clyde Logan is a Gentleman, Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Dom Clyde Logan, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Dry Humping, F/M, Fishnets, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food, Hair-pulling, Impact Play, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Orgasms, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Restraints, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vulnerability, Wax Play, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, author has no idea what she's doing, bar sex, but not as a kink, clyde is a gentleman in the streets and sir in the sheets, clyde logan likes making lists, clyde really loves fishnets, light exhibitionism, mentions of past bad bdsm experiences, soft dom Clyde, they just eat a lot it's appalachia okay, they're learning kink together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26965018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexnachos/pseuds/sexnachos
Summary: Clyde's life takes an unexpected but welcomed turn when a fiery wildcat of a woman walks into his bar one slow fall evening.OrLeaning into vulnerability and learning to accept what feeds your soul.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Original Female Character(s), Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Comments: 20
Kudos: 51





	1. detour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever fanfic, so please read with that in mind!
> 
> Don't forget to read the tags! If I've missed a tag feel free to let me know.
> 
> Tags will likely be added or even removed depending on where the story goes. For now I've added what I imagine so far, but who knows.
> 
> Check out the end notes for specific tags for each chapter.

The sun is just beginning to dip low behind the tree filled mountain ridge ahead of you. While it's a breathtaking sight, your eyes blur and droop right along with the setting sun. You've been driving for hours. Earlier in the day the interstate was clogged with traffic from an accident; after an hour of crawling along bumper to bumper and barely advancing a mile you decided you couldn’t sit still any longer and took the next exit you found. You figured a back road would at least put you ahead of the traffic, but you realize now that all the twists and turns on this mountain highway are taking a toll on your nerves and your concentration. There's only 2 hours left on your drive home, but there's no way you'll even consider making the winding drive after dark. The coal trucks are terrifying enough to share the road with during daylight - even on a divided highway they dominate the road, paying little mind to lanes and turn signals, always leaving your car covered in coal dust and dirt and flying debris when they pass you by. The GPS shows only one lonely hotel in your vicinity so you decide to go ahead and stop there, hoping a good night's rest will make the last leg of your trip more bearable. 

As you pull off the highway, you realize the 'road' you've pulled onto is nothing more than a short loop with 3 buildings. The Coal River Hotel, an ATV store, and what looks like a bar called Duck Tape nestled in the middle. You were hoping for at least a diner to grab some dinner, and as soon as the thought of food crosses your mind your stomach rumbles to remind you that you've not stopped to eat all day. Well, some greasy bar food will have to do; a drink to ease your tense shoulders from your stressful drive wouldn't hurt either. Thankfully the bar is only a short walk away and you're able to check into your room, freshen up, and make your way across the long gravel parking lot just as the sun disappears behind the mountain range behind you. 

Once inside, you were pleasantly surprised to find a tidy and cozy space before you. There were several wood tables and booths, a separate area for darts and pool, and even an old jukebox. You stood right in the entrance for a lingering moment, taking in the warm and inviting ambiance. The space was filled with kitschy décor and low, comforting lighting. You were surprised by how low-key the place was, and even more surprised by the imposing but handsome man that was standing behind the bar, looking straight at you with the ghost of a smile on his face. _Shit,_ you must have been standing there for too long. Not that you could blend in anyway, there were no more than 5 other folks in the entire building at the moment. You smiled back at the man behind the bar with a slight nod of your head, walked over to where he was standing behind the bar and took a seat on one of the barstools. Normally you hate sitting at the bar, unable to even reach the highest rung to prop your feet up when you sit down. Your feet always dangle useless, high above the floor. It makes you feel even smaller than you already are, almost childish.

"Evenin', what can I do ya for?" he asked in a deep, rumbling drawl, the corners of his frankly plush mouth still slightly upturned as he spoke to you.

It was honestly a little hard to concentrate on what he was saying to you; this large man in front of you was quite distracting. Even under the dim light of the bar you could see the burnt honey of his eyes, the stretch of his button down shirt over his broad frame, and when he flipped the bar towel he was holding over his shoulder you couldn't help but stare at his bicep flexing at the motion. You noticed then that his left arm was adorned with a high tech looking prosthetic. You cocked your head to the side as you looked back up at him; everything about him was imposing, his sharp cheekbones, long, proud nose, even his mouth. And you found yourself wanting him to impose all of that on you. You needed to stop gawking at this man and answer his question. 

"Well, I was hopin' y'all served food here. I've been drivin' all day and I'm about starved out. Got anything good?" you responded, unable to keep a similar smile off your face as he leaned in a bit closer to hear what you were saying.

He chuckled a bit and nodded "Yeah, I reckon we got a couple a things that might hit the spot for ya. Let me grab a menu for ya." He lumbered over to the other side of the bar and grabbed a menu from under the counter and handed it over to you. "I'm Clyde, by the way. Don't think I've ever seen you in here before" he said with a question in his tone.

You tell him your name and stick out your hand to shake his, surprised at how his hand engulfs your own, the tips of his fingers reaching far past your wrist as he grasps your hand. The contact causes you to forget your train of thought for a moment and you realize you've started to gape at this poor man. _Again._ Quickly, you duck your head down to your menu, hoping to hide the blush you already feel creeping up your neck and washing warm over your cheeks. 

"Yeah, I'm from over in Whitesburg. It's a couple hours down 119 over the mountain. On my way back from DC, actually. It's my first time in Danville; I'm just glad I found a spot to stop off for the night before the sun went down." you tell him while perusing the menu and trying your best not to look back up at him and get lost in his gaze again.

From your peripheral vision, you can see him drying and putting away glassware as he hums in acknowledgement of what you said. "Well, I reckon you picked the best time to stop off. Once ya get past Madison down the road there ain't another hotel or nothin' til you get up over the mountain. It's all dry, too, so you woulda been outta luck finding a drink."

"Ah, well lucky me" you quip back, looking up at him with a playful smile. Lucky you, indeed, you think to yourself. If you knew you'd run into such a stunning man on this little detour, you would've been taking this route a long time ago.

You order fried pickle chips and a turkey club, extra crispy bacon. When you ask him to please make sure your bacon is crispy to the point of burnt, he laughs and says "Ain't no other way to have it, if ya ask me. I'll go get your order in. Be back around in a jif to get you a drink." As he turns around to walk back to the kitchen window you find yourself enjoying the view from the back as much as the view from the front. His shoulders are obscenely wide. You squirm in your seat at the thought of being tossed over said shoulders and being carried off somewhere nice and quiet and cozy so you can see what's going on underneath those snug jeans and barely-hanging-on shirt his chest is trying to break free from. You really need that drink.

🥃🥃🥃

Clyde's been at Duck Tape long enough that he's sure he's seen and knows about every soul in Boone county. There's the monogram wearing church mommas who only come in "for the food" or during business meetings, the soot covered coal miners who come in after 12 hour shifts to relax their bones, the truck drivers who pile in off the highway for one last spot to drink before taking on the winding mountains, and of course all the local regulars in various shades of trucker hats, camo, and cutoff jean shorts with cowboy boots.

He thought he'd seen it all until tonight, when a tiny little thing with fire truck red hair walked through the front door to the bar. She seemed as gobsmacked as him, looking around the bar with wide eyes. He was grateful for her distraction because he couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from her. He felt his lips tug into a secret smile as he took her in - tight black jeans with holes ripped all through them and fishnets showing through the gaps. The fishnets ended several inches above her jeans, showing off a narrowed waist that bloomed into thick, wide hips that he could immediately imagine grasping onto. Her black t-shirt was cropped and had some sort of abstract graphic and what he assumed was a band name on it. He wasn't sure what "cap'n jazz" was, but he was certainly feeling jazzed at the sight of her standing here in his bar, looking like she just walked out of one of those pornos he likes to watch with tattooed girls being sweetly tortured with hands, rope, and too many orgasms. Thank god he's behind the bar and no one can see him from the waist down - he can already feel his cock hardening at just the thought of recreating one of those scenes with this girl.

When she finally spoke to him, he was surprised to hear her accent was just as thick as his. By the looks of her, he pegged her to be from somewhere up north, or at least somewhere far enough from Danville to not speak as slow and sweetly as she did. He found himself hoping she was from somewhere nearby and couldn't keep the question of it out of his voice when he introduced himself. While 2 hours away ain't much when it comes to mountain travel time, he deflated a bit when she said she lives over on the other side of the mountain in Kentucky. His disappointment floundered and flourished into something hopeful when she smiled up at him and said _"lucky me"_ in a way that he could almost swear was flirting, and when she asked for burnt bacon on her sandwich he couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face.

Walking to the kitchen window to put in her order, he thought to himself how glad he was it was a Wednesday night, a church night, and that the bar was all but guaranteed to be dead for the next few hours. Most folks would be at home with their families after church services. He was determined to take advantage of the nearly empty bar and get to know her a little more. He couldn't help himself - he'd never seen a woman like her before. Most of the women in Boone county were cookie cutter images of each other. The same hair cuts, same fashion choices, same beliefs. Hell, most of them went to the same school, and now go to the same church, never leaving their tiny circles. But this girl seemed like a firecracker, bursting and blooming with a loud demand to be seen and acknowledged for something different, something unexpected. He appreciated folks who weren't afraid to be their own person and stand out in a crowd. Since he lost his hand, Clyde's been in that same category, only for his part it wasn't a choice, but a circumstance he had adjusted to. He hoped she was the type of person who appreciated the differences in folks as well. 

He can't be sure, but when he turns around to head back to the bar he thinks he sees her head snap back from his direction back down to her hands that are fidgeting on top of the bar. Is she... _blushing?_ Surely not. He couldn't imagine why. 

He checks in on the scant few other customers in the bar before he makes his way back to her and asks her what she'd like to drink. 

"Old fashioned, if ya can? I know some places don't keep all the ingredients on hand." 

He's already pulling down a glass as he nods and says "I reckon we've got everything for it. Preference for spirit?" 

"Four Roses if you've got it. Would ya mind to muddle some extra cherries? I like a little sweet with the sting." She responds with a slow smirk, one eyebrow arching just the slightest as she looks up at him. 

_Lord above, is she flirtin' with me? Is she meanin' what I think she's meanin'?_ He huffs a quick laugh under his breath and smiles back with "Well, can't say I blame ya there"

🌜🌚🌛

You watch in rapt attention as he sets about to putting your drink together. You've always been fascinated by bartending, the ability to remember dozens of different recipes and styles, and it's obvious that Clyde is proficient at the art. His prosthetic doesn't hinder him either, and you find yourself unable to look away from his hands, both flesh and metal, working in tandem on a dance you'd never be able to replicate on your own. Just as you find yourself getting lost in watching him, imaging his hands working that same magic on your cunt, he asks "So, what brought you to DC, if ya don't mind me askin'?"

"Oh, well, it was for work. I work at a center back home that works on preserving and promoting Appalachian culture through media like radio and documentaries. There was a hearing in DC about funding for cultural programs so I was there to advocate for the funding. We get a lot of grants through the government to do our work."

He looked up at you with his eyebrows raised and a surprised look on his face. "Oh, really? Well. Ain't that somethin'. You ever do that kinda thing 'round here? We had a bunch of fancy Hollywood folks runnin' 'round here about a decade ago who did a documentary on a family that lives here in Boone county. I was deployed at the time, but I heard it brought a lot of out of town folks here visitin' when it first came out. I didn't right care much for how they showed off Boone county. Everyone thought we were just hard partying rednecks. I'm glad some folks are out there workin' on showing our real story."

 _Deployed._ You wonder if that's how he lost his hand. You couldn't help but roll your eyes when he mentioned the Whites though, and save that train of thought for later. "Oh Lord, yeah I remember that. Actually, that's part of the reason I do the work I'm doing now. Seeing Appalachia portrayed like that made me feel real defensive of my home and I wanted to do somethin' to battle those stereotypes. I don't think we've interviewed many folks on this side of the mountain, but if you've got any good stories then it might be something we could arrange."

Just then a voice from the kitchen window announced your order was up. Clyde loped over to the window to grab your food and bring it back to you. As soon as the food was under your nose you remembered how hungry you were; talking with Clyde had made you forget everything except the two of you for a few minutes. You asked Clyde for a glass of water to drink with your meal, and dug into your sandwich.

The first bite you took was accompanied by a frankly ridiculous moan of appreciation. "Mmm _Clyyyyde,_ ugh, _s'good!_ " you let out between bites.

Clyde jumped, dropped the cup he was holding into the ice bin, and quickly cleared his throat.  
"M'thanks, Carl's a pretty good cook I reckon." When he turned back to you with your glass of water he was mottled red from his neck to the tips of his ears. As you wrapped your lips around the straw to take a sip, you glanced up at him and hummed in appreciation with a smile while drinking. He teetered back and forth on his feet as he sat the glass down and immediately started rubbing the back of his neck. 

His blush and awkward shuffling made you realize the sounds that you've been making were not only obnoxious, but suggestive. _You've made this mountain of a man blush,_ you thought to yourself, feeling slightly less guilty than you should knowing the effect you seem to have on him. You look down at your plate, feeling another blush of your own rising up to the surface.

Clyde cleared his throat at the slightly awkward silence and said "Uh, stories, you were sayin'? Well, I've sure got lots of stories about my family. We've got a curse, ya see…"

You finished up your meal while Clyde explained to you the Logan Family Curse between serving customers, and how his siblings don't believe a word of it. It was endearing to hear Clyde talk about his family, his expression softening at the mention of his momma, his sister Mellie, his niece Sadie. He spoke of his brother a bit more harshly, but the laughs behind his words showed you how much he must care for his family. He becomes a bit more clipped in his speech when he mentions the last of the curse, losing his hand right as he was about to come home. It seems fairly obvious that is still a sore spot for him. You couldn't help but be captivated by him, his deep voice commanding attention that you were eager to give, his mouth wrapping around his words in the most peculiar but seductive way. 

Before you knew it several hours (and drinks) had passed. You glance at your phone. Shit. It was nearing 11pm. You spent so much time talking, laughing, and maybe flirting with Clyde that you didn't realize it was far past when you intended to go to sleep. You only realized how late it was getting when you noticed Clyde beginning to close the bar down while the two of you were talking. _'Well a later start in the morning won't be so bad'_ you think to yourself. _It's definitely been worth it._

You let out a yawn, call Clyde over to give him your card for your check and ask directions to the restroom. When you return, Clyde hands back your card and asks "It was a slow night and the bar's already about closed up. Should be done in just a few minutes. Care to wait around so I can walk you back over to the hotel? I'd feel a lot better if I knew you got back safe."

The smile that spreads across your face was immediate and uncontrollable. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot, actually." You look down at your feet, still smiling, and back up at him. "I'll wait for you on the porch?"

"Sure thing" he says with an equally bright smile.

Clyde makes quick work of closing down the bar and is out on the porch and by your side in a flash. Seeing him from out behind the bar is an entirely new experience. It could be the several drinks running through your system, but seeing him up close like this sends your blood to boiling in a delicious way. Standing next to him, you don't even hit his collarbone. This man is impossibly large - it's hard to even wrap your mind around even with him standing right in front of you.

He pushes his elbow on his prosthetic side out for you to take, and when you do he places his flesh hand over yours. Warm. Comforting. You look up at him with a shy smile as you walk across the parking lot back to the hotel. 

"I, um, I really enjoyed hearing your stories about your family, Clyde. I'm sure there's probably lots of other folks in town who have stories to tell as well. I'm gonna talk to some folks back at the office about extending our oral history series to the other side of the mountain. We're all Appalachians after all, no matter which ridge or foothill you live on."

He hums his assent and adds "Yeah, I reckon you're right about that. That'd be real nice."

Once you make it to the door to your room, you turn to Clyde and before you can lose your nerve you rush out "Well, maybe we should exchange numbers then, y'know, just in case they give the green light?"

Clyde just smiles and nods, and rattles off his number to you when you pull out your phone. You send him a text with your name and a smiley face. 

You put your phone back in your bag and open the door to your room. You really don't want this night to end, and are wondering if you could convince him to come inside with you. With a sigh, you turn back to Clyde, your back to the open doorway.

"Well, I really can't thank you enough. For the meal, the company, the laughs. I'm so glad I chose to stop off here tonight. It was a lucky choice to say the least." The last half comes out as barely more than a whisper as you look up through your lashes at Clyde and see him smiling softly down at you. 

You both stand there for a long moment, just staring at each other. You know you'll regret it if you don't at least try, so you interrupt the silence with "Y'know, Clyde, you could kiss me goodnight and I wouldn't be mad about it" 

Clyde swallows hard as he looks between your mouth and the open door behind you. You can see his hand at his side clenching and unclenching in a fist. He's starting to look uncomfortable and in a flash of embarrassment your face falls and you stutter out "Oh, I-I'm sorry...I thought...nevermind. Have a good ni-"

Clyde cuts you off with a hand gripping firmly at your shoulder, his eyes drawn together in stern ferocity as he leans down so he's directly in your line of sight. "No, no, no, it's nothin' like that. It's just - I- well... if I kiss you right now I'm afraid I won't be able to stop there. You've had several drinks tonight and, well, I'd never forgive myself if I felt like I took advantage of someone under the influence. Whether you feel that way or not, it just wouldn't sit right with me. But Lord above, would I like to kiss you goodnight." His eyebrows raise as he looks at you imploringly, hoping you'll understand the position he's in. 

_'Is this man real?'_ you think to yourself, lips parting in shock and endearment from what he's just said. You thought men like that didn't actually exist, lord knows none of the men you've met at bars or parties ever gave a second thought to whether or not they should engage a drunk woman. Your heart swelled at the thought of him caring so much about your full consent. Without a word, you turn around and pull the door to your room closed completely, and twist the knob to show it's locked once again.

You pivot back to Clyde, but this time put your hands on his chest and lean toward him. "Well, now the door's locked. If I promise not to open it, will you kiss me goodnight then?" 

Clyde just smiles and hums, takes your face in his hand and finally, finally kisses you. Gently, like you're a fragile thing that needs to be handled with care. His lips are soft against yours, the kiss a bit tentative, and the bourbon must be making you bold because you gently nip and tug at his lower lip with an almost feral moan. You silently ask for the kiss to be deepened by licking across his lips once you release him from your bite. Clyde groans and opens up to your mouth, his flesh hand gripping your jaw with a bit more force as his other arm wraps around your lower back, his prosthetic hand gripping your waist and pulling you closer into his arms. You respond in kind by pushing your fingers into his hair at the back of his neck and pulling him in as close and tight to you as you can, exploring his mouth with your tongue and matching his moans with your own. You're flush together at this point - the intensity of your shared kiss throwing your body into autopilot, you instinctively grind yourself against him and though you aren't surprised to feel his erection warm and firm against your navel, you are surprised by how much of it there is to feel. You both groan and pull back briefly with a pant against each other's lips.

When you finally come up for air, you both pull back just enough to look at one another. He traces the line of your mouth with his thumb and closes his eyes. "Well, I reckon I'm real glad you stopped in Danville, too." He whispers into your mouth with a laugh. "What time are you planning on heading out tomorrow?"

You take a moment to run your own fingers across the sharp lines of his cheekbone, the shell of his ear peeking out from his hair where you ruffled it. "Mmm. Not sure. Check out is at 11, and knowing me I'll wait until the very last minute."

He laughs at that, and pulls you in close to his chest. You can hear his voice rumbling through his sternum as he asks quietly "Will ya let me know when you hit the road? I'll be worryin' about whether ya make it home safe and sound now."

Your smile only widens at his thoughtful question. You've sure been doing a lot of smiling tonight. After a long week of dealing with stuffy old men in suits, it was exactly what you needed.

"Yeah, I can do that. Thank you." You mumble into his chest, taking a deep breath to absorb the smell of him. It's just generic Irish Spring and Downy, with a bit of spirit spell from the bar. Sweet, somehow, underneath it all, but it's intoxicating and you want to remember it. 

You really don't want him to leave, but it's getting dangerously close to midnight and if you want to be alert for your drive tomorrow you'll need to get some sleep. You squeeze Clyde tight around the middle before pulling away. "It's getting awful late, I think it's time I call it a night." 

Clyde pulls you in for one more kiss, and then with a kiss to the crown of your head, he mumbles into your hair, "Alright. Drive safe tomorrow. Don't forget to text me."

Clyde tells you goodnight and says your name so sweetly it makes your heart twist. The second you get into your room and make sure the door is locked, you make quick work of taking off your jeans. You can't even be bothered to take the extra 10 seconds to remove your fishnets before you're laying back on the bed, one hand shoved between your legs, circling your clit fast and hard. You come in what feels like less than a minute, with Clyde's name on your lips and the sound of his voice saying your name ringing over and over in your head. You peel the rest of your clothes off in a post orgasmic haze, and fall asleep to the thought of his large, warm hand skimming over your body, pinching and smacking, leaving stinging pleasurable love marks across your skin in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter.
> 
> This chapter includes: masturbation, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, mentions of ropes/restraints, mentions of spanking/slapping/leaving marks
> 
> We will get to kinky stuff soon. I love a quick smut oneshot, but I wanted this to feel more real I suppose. So, we build the trust and communication a little so we can get real dirty later 😈
> 
> Some of the places I've described here are real places! 119 is the real state highway that runs through Boone county. The Coal River Hotel is a real hotel located on a small loop off 119 in Danville.
> 
> The "center" that does the oral history collection that is referenced is based off of a real organization close to where I live. They've been recording and telling appalachian stories for over 50 years, and lift up important stories about social and racial issues that often get overlooked here. If there are groups in your area that do work like this I encourage you to support them! They do invaluable work.
> 
> I welcome kind, constructive criticism! I'm a complete novice at writing of any sort, and welcome suggestions to improve my skills (or lack of)!
> 
> Twitter: @sexnachos


	2. delay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Clyde doesn't say anything, just kisses your forehead and buries his face into the crook of your neck with a deep sigh.
> 
> You're definitely going to be getting home much later than you originally planned."
> 
> _________________________________
> 
> Check out the notes at the end of the chapter for chapter-specific tags!

Clyde could scarcely pay attention on the drive home due to thoughts of you. He could still smell your sweet scent, taste your kisses in his mouth. How long had it been since he’d been able to touch another person with reverence, passion? He wasn't sure, but he knew damn well he had never experienced anyone quite like you before. He groaned and palmed himself over his jeans at the thought of your hot, insistent mouth on his. 

It took every last ounce of his self control to keep their kiss _just_ a kiss. Every nerve in his body was screaming for him to scoop you up and toss you on the rickety old mattress of that hotel room so he could wring as much pleasure out of you as possible. But, he took a different type of pleasure in knowing he did the honorable thing. He couldn't live with the shame if you had woken up sober the next morning and regretted anything at all. But honor wasn't doing anything for the near painful erection digging into his jeans the entire drive home. 

He usually has a nightly ritual when he comes home from the bar at night. Eat something quick, wash up, and then some reading before he gets everything ready for the next day. Not tonight, though. He goes straight to the bathroom and turns on the shower head. Stepping in when the water heater up, he lets the hot water wash over him and relax his muscles. 

It doesn't take long until his hand makes its way down to his cock, still jutting as proud and hard as it was the moment he pulled away from your mouth and embrace. He strokes himself slowly as he thinks about how sexy you looked standing there in his bar with those fishnets around your waist taunting him, begging him to pull them down so he could lave his tongue over all the criss-cross marks he's sure they've left from hugging your skin so tightly. 

Oh, what a picture you'd make laying on his bed, squirming and moaning as he slowly acquainted himself with every hidden treasure of your body. He'd take his time with you, as he does most things. He wouldn't want to tease you _too much_ , but he couldn't imagine not giving your body the attention it deserves. And he would show you, in great detail, exactly what you deserve. The pace of his fist on his cock quickens and he braces himself against the shower wall with his forearm as he imagines being nose deep in your cunt. He wonders what sounds you would make while licked, sucked and teased you. Christ, if he could hear you moan his name like you did earlier in the night when you were eating - he’d be a dead man. The thought of you moaning his name, thighs locked tight around his ears while he licked you through shaking orgasm after orgasm that you'd be powerless to stop while tied up to his bed is what sent him over the edge - moaning _your name_ as he comes hard and hot over his fist and the shower wall. 

As he lays in bed later that night while trying to sleep, he decides he is going to do whatever he can to make sure you don't cross that mountain tomorrow and disappear like a fever dream. 

Naturally, that means he needs to make a plan. And like all successful plans, you gotta make a list. The first item on Clyde's list is to send you a text message so he will be the first thing you see when you wake up in the morning.

_Good morning, hope you're waking up feeling rested… Spent all night thinkin about kissing you again._

He wanted to say more, but texting isn't exactly Clyde's favorite thing. Thankfully, the fancy prosthetic he has now allows him to hold his phone securely while he types with his flesh hand. It's easier now, but still a pain. Hopefully his message makes you smile and doesn't come across creepy. You've only shared a kiss, so he leaves the direction of his message to that and nothing more...vulgar. He falls asleep thinking about when he will get to see you again, hoping beyond hope to have a chance to bring his fantasies to life with you. Y'all ain't even gotta try any of the kinky things he likes to watch; he'd be happy to drink his pleasure with you sweet and loving as long as he gets a taste.

The most obnoxious, wailing sound shatters through the silence of the morning. Clyde wakes with a start, jolting upright in bed. _Is that the tornado sirens?_ He looks toward the source of the sound and realizes it’s his phone. After texting you last night he set the notification sound for your number to the most outrageous sound he could pick from. He didn’t want to sleep through any messages from you. 

_mornin’ clyde :)_

_i didn’t stop thinkin about you from the moment i closed the door to the moment i closed my eyes to sleep_

_thanks for being a gentleman last night...im not used to that from men_

_i hope this isnt too forward but it was really sexy, especially in the sober light of day - haha_

  
  


Sexy?! Well, he’s certainly awake now. 

The clock on his phone shows 8:36am. He thought you said something about waiting until the last minute to leave last night - _shit -_ what if you had changed your mind? He needs to get up and get to item number 2 on his list. 

  
  


Clyde pulls into the parking lot of the hotel a little over an hour later. Of course his favorite breakfast spot was busier than he expected - he usually goes during the afternoon and wasn’t thinking about the morning rush. The only thing he could think about was getting to your room before you were really gone. He hopes he’s not too late. 

Growing up, he was taught it was rude to show up to someone's house without bringing a gift or something to share. Even more so when it's unannounced. You didn't seem like the type of woman who cared too much over flowers and such, so he went with what he knew - food. He picked up a double order of biscuits and gravy with bacon and coffee. He didn't know how you took your coffee yet so he brought plenty of cream and sugar packets on the side. 

With the breakfast in tow, Clyde took a deep breath, walked to your room, and knocked.

_Please still be here, please still be here and be glad to see me._

Several long moments passed before Clyde saw the curtains ruffle in the window next to the door. Another moment later, the door creaks open.

It's a miracle Clyde can keep his wits about him enough to keep hold on the breakfast balanced between his arm and hip. He can't help himself from gawking at you, eyes wide, a little slack jawed as you come into full view in the doorway. Hair piled up on your head like a fiery halo, t-shirt several sizes too big with the collar cut out so it slouches over your shoulder, exposing your collarbone, tight black bike shorts just barely peeking out from the hem of your shirt, you looked like nothing he had ever seen before and the only thing he ever wanted to see again.

His delight at seeing your bare legs and the tattoos across the front of your thighs almost wanes at the loss of the fishnets from the night before. He sure spent a lot of time last night imagining ripping them open with his teeth and feeling them leave marks against his cheeks while he ate you out. Maybe if things don’t go too off the rails today you’ll get a chance some other time. _Please._

It only took him a beat or two to realize you had started talking. His brain manages to register your scoff of a laugh, and looks up to see your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Cold panic begins to creep up his gut, but then you shake your head just a bit and with a smile blooming across your face say “Clyde! Well, what are you doin’ up here so bright an’ early in the mornin’?”

He doesn’t miss the quick flit of your eyes up and down his frame. Shifting a bit on his feet, from both your attention and his nerves, he takes a deep breath. God. You smell like cherries and honey. Like Mamaw Logan's kitchen in late summer when she spent the evenings canning and preserving peaches and berries and all of your favorite sweet things. He might just have a new favorite sweet thing. 

Clyde has to clear his throat and swallow whatever foreign emotion that line of thought sent creeping up his chest before he responds “Ah, well...I...figured you might want some breakfast before you hit the road. Didn’t reckon they served any here.” He holds up the boxes of food with both hands, careful to keep the tray of coffee that’s balancing on top from tipping over. 

“That’s mighty thoughtful, Clyde. Why don’t you come on in?” 

  
  


🌜🌚🌛

  
  


Apparently this man was going to surprise you at every turn. You hadn’t even known him for 24 hours and yet he’s shown you more kindness than some folks you’ve known for ages. Here he was, standing just inside the door of your cramped hotel room before 10am with breakfast _just in case_ , when you _knew_ it was past 2am when he went to sleep. You have the text message to prove it. 

You motion toward the small round table in the corner of the room and you both sit down as Clyde deposits the boxes on the table. As he’s unpacking the food he explains “I just ordered a double of everything so they put it all in one container. Brought plates, though.”

Thoughtful, again. You smile. “No, that’s okay. We can share. I don’t mind.”

“Alright.”

Clyde nestles the tray of bacon over the open lid of the biscuits and gravy tray and turns them so they sit equal distance between you on the table. 

After you finish the meal, you push your chair away from the table and stretch out, long and taut with your toes pointed out and your arms stretched as far as you can above your head. You close your eyes, roll your neck, and with a little groan and hum thank Clyde again for the breakfast. 

“Biscuits and gravy are my favorite, Clyde. Thanks for doing that, and for thinkin’ of me.”

When you look back over at him, you see his eyes roam up and down your stretched out figure. His eyes reach yours again and without breaking contact he replies “I haven’t _stopped_ thinkin’ about you since you walked into my bar last night. I know I said earlier I just wanted you to have a good breakfast, but I really just wanted an excuse to see you again. Make sure you were real, in the light of day.” 

At that last sentence, Clyde shifted a bit in his chair and looked down at his hand on his knee. He rubs his fingers against his palm and you can see his jaw working and lips pursing. You realize he’s nervous, and the thought makes your heart bloom. Based on what he said last night about taking advantage of you, you think he might be worried that you regretted kissing him last night since you had been somewhat under the influence. Apparently your text this morning wasn't clue enough. You can’t have that. 

You can’t think of any way to get close to him subtly so you’ll just go with it outright. 

“Clyde - can...can I come sit in your lap?” you ask, nervous yourself. 

His eyes shoot back up to yours in a flash. He blinks, swallows, and slowly nods - saying nothing. 

As you take the few steps over to him, he moves his hands out of his lap. You sit sideways in his lap, shoulder nestled under his arm, his flesh hand winding down behind you and around your waist, his prosthetic hand laying across your legs. 

You can't help yourself from nuzzling your face into his neck, running your nose along the skin just below his ear as you mumble into his skin "M'so glad you came back. I haven't stopped thinkin' about you either."

His grip on your waist tightens as he groans, inhaling deeply. He noses against the side of your face, worms and pushes his face against yours until your lips finally meet. He’s not tentative and reserved like last night. His kiss is immediately deep, all tongue and pressure and heat against you. The warmth of his hand against your waist disappears, and suddenly his fingers are plunging into your hair, tugging your head back gently but sturdy. It’s your turn to groan as he noses against your jaw, planting sloppy, sucking kisses along your pulse point, up to your ear lobe. He gives it a gentle nibble and whispers “Good, so good. Been hard for you since before I even kissed you at the door last night.” 

His prosthetic grips your hip and holds you in place as he grinds himself up onto your ass. 

Another yank of your hair, another moan escapes your throat at the sting of it. 

“So many things I’ve thought about doing to you already. Wanna show you. Can I? Please let me show you just how wild you’re makin’ me feel.” He’s heaving and panting the words right into your ear. The room is spinning around you just from the thought of it. 

With a loud gasp, you reach up from his bicep that you were clinging to and grab the side of his face, pulling his forehead against yours. 

“Please. Please show me.”

Your words have barely fallen from your lips before he hauls you up under shoulders and knees and has you laid out on the bed. The creak and groan of the mattress and bed frame under your combined weight reminds you that you’re in the hotel, and it’s dangerously close to check-out time. Clyde’s about to lean in to kiss you again but you brace your arms on your shoulders to stop him. 

“I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, because it’s the last thing I want, but this is gonna have to be quick. Check-out time is in less than an hour”

With a heavy sigh, Clyde moves your arms from his shoulders and nuzzles his nose right into the hollow of your throat. “Don’t wanna be quick...wanna take my time with you, savor it. Somethin’ quick ain’t gonna help me none once you leave.”

He pulls back from you and you see his jaw working again. He seems torn, and nervous again. 

"You ain't gotta agree, and we can just be quick if you want, but would you wanna come over to my place instead? I _swear_ I won't keep you too awful long, I gotta be back at the bar later today anyway, but I _really_ do wanna take my time with you. You deserve that."

Your heart melts at the sincerity in his voice and his eyes. How could you say no to that? Maybe it's a little reckless to go home with some bartender you just met 12 hours ago, but from what you can tell he seems honest and kind. _Fuck it._

"Okay. Yeah. I'd really like that."

The smile that blooms across his face burns away any hesitation you were just feeling. The sight of his dimples cutting deep into the contours of his face might just be your new favorite sight. Who needs mountain ranges when you have the most precious deep valleys of happiness right in front of your eyes, up close and etched into his face and your heart?

  
  


You decide to just park your car behind the bar and ride with Clyde to his place since he's coming back later. You can't help but scoot over into the middle seat during the drive, hand wrapped around his upper thigh, head resting against his shoulder. He kisses the top of your head several times before you make it to his modest trailer. You have to admire his restraint - you can see his erection bulging against his jeans the entire drive. It was tempting to reach out and palm it, gently squeeze, but you didn't want to tease him too much in the state he was in. You could tell he was wound up tight, knuckles white against the steering wheel, nose flaring with every breath. 

You hardly make it through the door before Clyde grabs you around the waist and hauls you up into his arms. Your legs instinctively wrap around him and he carries you down the narrow hallway and into his room. Before you know it, you're sprawled out on the bed and he's laying his weight gingerly over you. He kisses you with the same intensity as earlier, but now he's insistently grinding against you, trepidation gone once again. Your legs are still locked around him and you use them to pull him tighter against you and rock back against him with the same urgency. 

He releases the kiss with a moan, and as soon as he pulls back you're tugging his shirt up and over his head. He helps pull it off the rest of the way when your arms fall short of getting it all the way over his head and takes a moment to remove the prosthetic hand and sit it on the nightstand. His hand darts underneath your own oversized shirt, and as soon as his hand reaches the underside of your breast his eyes go wide with surprise at your lack of a bra. It’s all the encouragement you need to lean up a bit and pull your own shirt off, tossing it to the floor. 

Clyde stutters a ragged, shaking breath, his grip on your breast tightening as he wastes no time wrapping his plush lips over the already hardened nipple of your opposite breast. He swirls his tongue over and over, giving it just a little nip before releasing it with a loud, wet pop before kissing his way over to the one already cupped in his hand. 

The sensation is almost too much for you to handle, and you’re already moaning, writhing under him, one hand grasping at his hair. His warm mouth against your skin has your nerves shooting wildly, your hand gripping his hair tries to pull him in and push him away in the same breath. It’s as if your body doesn’t know what to do with the sudden _zing_ of pleasure and is just bucking wildly as if you were electrocuted. 

It’s a struggle to breathe, but you manage a stuttered, open-mouthed inhale as Clyde pulls away and looks up at you. The look he gives you is so soft and reverent, but hungry, his eyebrows raised slightly, eyes serious. “My God, you’re even more than I could have imagined. Look at you, layin’ here in my bed, pantin’ and wigglin’ around.” He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he slowly licks up the edge of your breast he’s still holding in his flesh hand, planting a little kiss at the top of his path. “Gotta taste you now, see if that’s even better, too. Can I?”

“Please, yes, please Clyde. You said you’d show me. Right?”

He smiles against the valley between your breasts, and with a chuckle plants a small kiss there. “Mmm. And you asked so nicely both times, too.”

He leaves a slow trail of kisses down your sternum, and bites and tugs on the waistband of your shorts using his teeth to help pull them down your waist with his flesh hand. You raise your hips and grab the side opposite his hand to help pull them and your panties over your ass and down to your knees where he lifts his weight off you and you manage to kick them the rest of the way off. You try to reach towards the fly of his jeans so you can strip him down to match your nakedness, but he stops you with a hand over yours. 

“No. Not yet. Won’t last no time if you get your hands on me too soon.”

You smile and wrap your hands around his neck instead, pull him in for a kiss before he settles himself lower, spreading your legs just enough to accommodate his head, the backs of your thighs resting on his shoulders. He nuzzles his chin through your trimmed patch of pubic hair, kissing and sucking the tender skin below your navel and between your hips before nosing his way down further. Your eyes widen with surprise and delight when he uses his nose instead of fingers to part you open gently. Just enough pressure and wiggling to open up a path for his tongue to follow from your entrance to your clit. He places the gentlest ghost of a kiss right on your clit before his tongue darts out lower again, circling your entrance. He’s teasing you, but _fucking God_ the visual and the sensation to go along with it is almost enough to send you over the edge already. The sound it causes you to make is unnatural, a screeching, choked sob following a whining plea of “ _Clyyyyde_ ohmygod!”

His only response is a grunt as he gingerly licks at you and tugs a bit on your outer lips. The only attention he’s giving your clit is an occasional circle of his nose around the perimeter, but it’s not enough and you think he knows it. 

You grab a handful of his hair at the back of his neck and try to push your hips up into his face to grind on him. “ _Please_ , Clyde.”

He tightens his grip on your legs to hold you still, and pulls away from your cunt. He looks up at you and licks his lips. Moans. "I was right. Better than I imagined." He kisses the inside of your thighs, inhales deep through his nose. "So wet and swollen already." He looks up at you as his flesh hand moves from around your thigh, holding you down with his arms instead as he ever so gently ghosts the pad of 2 fingers over your drenched cunt. "Gotta know if you're as tight as you are wet." And plunges those same 2 fingers into you, directly to the knuckle. 

You scream " _FUCK"_ at the top of your lungs as your back arches in an attempt to accommodate the sudden intrusion. Your grip in Clyde's hair tightens to point that your knuckles crack and you're sure it hurts him. He just growls and says "Oh, you are." Flicks his tongue out like a flash against your clit, just once, while he beckons you with his fingers still buried deep inside you. "Gotta work you open a little before you can take me. Seemed like you were awful close to coming, and the first time you do I want it to be when I'm inside you." Your legs shake and breath stutters at his words, you only have enough breath left for a pitiful mewl of a whine. "Just hold on a little more, and then you can come as much as you want, okay?"

All you can manage is a weak nod and he begins fucking into you with his thick, calloused fingers. Slowly, at first, with a gentle curve that keeps hitting _that spot_ over and over. It's almost too much; you're about to tell him to stop when he adds a third finger and increases his pace. Your hips are starting to struggle against his firm weight holding you down, your thighs tremble with the pressure of it all. With a sob, you manage to cry out "Please, I'm so close, please fuck me now I can't hold on much more Clyde I- "

Your train of thought is cut short when all the sensations in your cunt are suddenly absent and Clyde is hauling himself up your body. He grabs your jaw to steer you in for a bruising kiss, grinding wildly against your center, still in his jeans. 

"Okay, okay" he pants into your ear before he stands up next to the bed and removes the rest of his clothes. You nearly choke on your own tongue at the sight of his cock bobbing heavy between his legs. It wasn't so much that you thought it would kill you, but you were certain you'd be feeling this for days. Thicker than you could probably wrap your hand around, you realize why he needed to warm you up first. 

He fishes a condom out of the nightstand without a word, and before you know it he's between your legs again, grinding the head of his cock over your clit and soaking himself in preparation. You both moan at the contact. You can't wait any longer, so when he looks up at you, you reach down and grasp the base of his cock and guide him toward your entrance. 

He lets go of himself and falls forward on his forearms as he begins to slowly push himself into you. The hot stretch and pressure that's building as he nudges in causes your back to arch up toward him, your feet to lock behind his back, pulling and urging him in further. He seats fully inside you with a moan. 

You're both panting, looking at each other. You reach up to push the hair out of Clyde's face and whisper "M'glad you stretched me out a bit first"

His ensuing laugh causes his cock to bob and twitch inside you, and you can't help but clench down from the sensation with a gasp and a wild grasp at his shoulders.

That's all he needs to start rocking back and forth inside you, just barely at first, the head of his cock stroking a deep spot over and over until you let out a long, broken moan that ends with a plea. 

At that he braces both his forearms above your shoulders to hold you in place and fucks you in earnest, his balls slapping heavy against your ass, the squelch of your skin and fluids smacking together the only sound rivaling the moans and gasps between you. 

It's electrifying, every thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you, but you need just a little bit more. You unwind one of your hands from his hair and reach down between you to circle your clit. You're so close you can taste it. Just as you pick up the pace of your ministrations, Clyde kisses you hard and mumbles against your lips "Are you close? I can feel you shaking. Are you going to come for me? Go on, little wildcat, let me feel you come on my cock."

You can't bite back the drawn out moan that escapes your lips. In a blind moment of pleasure, you sob out "Clyde, please, put your hand around my neck. Just a little pressure. Please, just a little." His hips stutter and you can hear his breath hitch as he readjusts his weight so he can settle his large, warm hand across your neck. Just a little, like you asked, just enough pressure to make your blood sing and dance in a warm bloom of pleasure. 

The combination of his words and the gentle pressure of his hand around your throat was the last thread you needed plucked and you unravel underneath him, coming with a shout and a loop of " _oh God"_ and _"Clyde Clyde Clyde"_ , legs clenching and trembling around him as he sits up, wraps his arms around your waist to brace you both, and fucks into you with renewed fervor, a growl on the end of every thrust as he chases your orgasm with his own, hauling your weight up and down on him like it's nothing. 

It doesn't take long for him to follow you into his own orgasm, hips stuttering as he chokes on his own gasps and growls with one last deep thrust. He practically collapses on top of you after, both of you absolutely spent and sweating and panting. 

He attempts to pull off and away from you after a long moment, but you stop him with your legs held tight around his waist and your arms pulling his shoulders back down on you.

"Not yet." You whisper into the side of his sweat soaked temple.

Clyde doesn't say anything, just kisses your forehead and buries his face into the crook of your neck with a deep sigh.

You're definitely going to be getting home much later than you originally planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This is mostly smut I guess. 
> 
> tags/warnings: food/eating (again. sorry. if this is weird for you please tell me. i just happen to show my love through food), masturbation, mentions of restraints/being tied up, oral sex, orgasm delay if you squint i guess, reader asks clyde to hold their throat while he fucks them and he does but its more holding than choking
> 
> I promise I'll try not to have food and mentions of eating in every chapter. That being said, I am a sucker for communal eating. There's just something about sharing one plate with someone that's so intimate and sweet to me. Some of my best memories are from communal meals I've shared with folks I care deeply about. 
> 
> They're gonna talk a lot in the next chapter and feel things and maybe they'll cry but like, in a sweet way. Just warning you!
> 
> Thanks for all the comments so far! Y'all are kind. I'm open to constructive criticism as well as long as you aren't a dick about it :)
> 
> twitter: @sexnachos


	3. softie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...maybe you’re wantin’ exactly what I’m lookin’ to give."
> 
> _____________________________________
> 
> see endnotes for chapter specific tags!

🌜🌚🌛

This is the part you hate. The  _ after  _ part. Where you have to do something other than moan and pant and feel good. In your experience it usually goes one of 3 ways:

  1. You smile and laugh, pretend as though you just had your mind blown while you mentally calculate where all of your clothes are located so you can get out as quickly as possible. If you're lucky, the other person is just as eager to get this part over with and it's a touch less awkward. If the sex is good enough, you'll text them later to maybe set up another "date".
  2. If you're not so lucky….you have to play along for a while longer, humming non-committal responses to anything from "You should stay the night" to "Maybe we should go out sometime." Their level of insistence or prodding for a deeper connection determines how long you stick around before you can't take it anymore. You'll excuse yourself to the bathroom, get dressed and sneak out the front door. You'll text them too, but not to see them again. You don’t like to ghost people.
  3. The worst, though, is when they want to get touchy-feely after. Trying to tangle their legs into yours, cup your face, _talk_ about each other with googly eyed affection. It's too much, too intimate. It makes you squirm in a decidedly unsexy way every time. You feel like a caged animal, being held in someone's arms while they whisper sweet things in your ear. What are you supposed to say back? _"Yeah me too"_? _"Oh thanks that's nice"_? _" You're not so bad yourself"_? Then they try to kiss you all sweet and soft? No thanks. Goodbye.



Yet somehow, despite it all, you find yourself stopping Clyde from pulling away from you. You wanna be tangled up with him, even just for a few moments longer.

Your heart stutters in surprise from your reaction but immediately stops cold in a panic when you realize you kind of want option 3.  _ Fuck _ .

It's hard to tell how much time passes with Clyde laying over you, head nestled under your chin, because you spend the entirety of it in a mild panic. 

_ What happens next? What am I even going to say to him? What do I even want  _ **_him_ ** _ to say? Why did I even pull him back in? Ugh. Dear GOD what is going on with me - okay okay yes, the sex was great. He did exactly what you asked for and didn't even try to take it a half step further. He respected your boundaries today just like he did last night even when you didn't realize you needed them. Of course you like him, you idiot. But now what?? _

Your endless internal panic-rambling is cut off when Clyde does finally roll off of you. Your mind blanks, body freezes as you wait to see what he will do or say. 

He rolls over beside you on the bed, just far enough to peel the condom off and discard it. With his amputated arm still underneath you, he crooks his elbow around your waist and pulls your backside flush against him. He winds his other arm under yours and up around your front, his hand resting gently across your collarbone and the base of your throat. You can feel him smile against your skin as he tilts your head to the side with his thumb on your jaw, just enough that he can press slow, smiling kisses along the exposed skin there, facial hair tickling you along the way.

He surprises you again and doesn't say anything. But he's smiling and holding you so tight and close to him as he kisses you with no real intention and it's just the right amount of reassurance you need. He doesn't say anything because he doesn't have to. Who knew such a thing was possible. 

You've never had the affection without the words. Without the pressure and expectation of saying something back. Without even realizing it, Clyde has removed a hefty weight off your shoulders. You close your eyes and "mmm" dreamily at the comfort of it all. 

The two of you lie pressed together for a long while, until your breathing evens out and your bones start to solidify again and then a little bit longer after that. You know you'll have to get up soon for the bathroom but you can't find the motivation to move from your warm Clyde cocoon. 

Clyde's phone ringing cuts through the silence you had created together. He just groans and squeezes you a little tighter, mumbling "Just ignore it" into the skin behind your ear. 

At the third consecutive call, you can't ignore it anymore. "Just answer it Clyde, it might be important." 

With another groan, he pulls away from you and fishes his phone out of the pile of clothes on the floor and answers it with a gruff "Hello?"

You want to give him some privacy and use the opportunity to head to the bathroom to clean up a bit. You can still hear his deep voice through the thin walls, but at least the courtesy was there.

You hear him say "Can't today, I'm busy" and after a long beat "Well I don't reckon that's any of your business!" 

Just as you're finishing up and stepping back into the hallway you can hear Clyde groan and nearly shout "Mellie, I ain't got time for all your gossipin' and such. Come by the bar tonight and I'll give you the truck keys. And no meddlin' about this time either, now. I mean it!"

When you step back into his bedroom, Clyde's laid back on his bed, propped up against the headboard. He looks up at you and holds his hand out toward you. You take it and let him haul you up into his lap, your legs straddling his. His hand and arm settle around your waist and on your hip, respectively. 

He looks you up and down slowly and hums. "Sorry ‘bout that. Was my sister Mellie. Wanted me to help haul some table or somethin' she found at a yard sale." 

"Oh, well if you need to go on and help her I-"

Clyde doesn't let you finish your sentence before he has his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. "Mmm no. Not ready for you to go just yet." He shifts a bit, "Ah, unless you wanna, I mean. That's fine, too."

You wiggle a bit yourself, burrowing a little closer in his embrace. "No, I ain't ready just yet either."

“Mmm. Good."

  
  


\--------------

  
  


The two of you stay locked together like that for a long while, just breathing together and touching and smoothing each other's skin. Eventually, Clyde clears his throat softly and kisses your forehead. 

"Can I ask ya somethin'?" He murmurs against the top of your head.

"Mmhmm"

"Well, actually it's 2 things I reckon. The first thing is...well, is it alright if I call or text you after you leave - for... personal reasons? I know you gave me your number so you could holler at me about interviews for your job but I'd really like to get to know you outside of that, too."

You smile broadly against his chest and nod. "Yeah. I'd like that a lot. Was hoping you would."

"Mmm. Good." He squeezes you a bit tighter.

He doesn't say anything else for a few seconds. 

"And the second one…?"

He shifts again.

"I ain't tryin' to pry, and you ain't gotta answer if you don't feel like it, but...was it alright? Me kind of choking you like that? I mean, did it feel good? I ain't never done that before and I just wanna make sure it was alright, I guess."

_ This man.  _ He might be too sweet for you. "Yeah, it was more than alright, Clyde. I really liked it. Thank you. For doing exactly what I asked for, especially. I wasn't expectin' to ask you to do that but I reckon I'm glad I did."

He peels you out from under his chin, and tilts your head up to look directly in his eyes. His eyebrows pinch just a bit as he says "Of course I would do exactly what ya asked of me. Why wouldn't I? I'd never do something to you that you didn't want me to do. Ever."

Your heart cracks a bit at the intensity of his words and gaze. You smile and cup his face in your hand and try not to look away from him as you scrunch your nose and say "Well, not everyone out there is as considerate as you are, Clyde Logan." You can't help the smile and slightly teasing tone as you say his name. 

"Honestly, I've stopped asking partners to do anything like that with me. It's been years. More than once I've asked a partner to hold my neck, or pull my hair, and they seem to take that as some sort of carte blanche permission to do whatever other kinky thing strikes their fancy. Like just because I asked for this  _ one thing _ , it must mean I like something else." The intensity of his gaze is too much, you have to duck your head into his neck so he can't see you say the rest. "And maybe I do, maybe I want those things too, but doing it without permission or talking about it first ruins any trust I would have in them to do things the right way. I probably should have talked to you about holding my neck before, but it just came out. And you didn't break that fragile trust. That means a lot to me. I-I'm grateful for that."

Clyde squeezes you tight and rubs his chin over the top of your head, still buried from his sight, and whispers your name.

"If that's the thing you want then you deserve to have that. And the people who didn't respect it don't deserve to have  _ you _ . M'glad you trusted me with it. I'll do my best not to break it, if we ever do this again. If you'd want that."

You kiss his neck with a smile, “Mmm. Think I’d want that an awful lot. What about you, though. Did _ you _ like it?”

He laughs a bit and rubs his hand up and down your back. “More than I expected to. Ain’t never really done nothin’ like that before. Wanted to. I’ve...er...uh...watched a lot of...porn that does stuff like that though. Can’t say I know a whole lot aside from what I’ve seen, which I know ain’t all that realistic usually. But uh, if you felt like you could trust me, I’d be glad to learn as much as I can. To try, with you. Lord knows I don’t know what I’m doing but I could figure it out with a little help.”

You give him a little squeeze around the middle and then run your hands up his chest and wrap your arms around his neck, nosing along his jaw and around the shell of his ear. 

“Hmm. Maybe. I think...I think we should get to know each other a little better. BDSM stuff is pretty new to me, too. I’ve never had a partner who cared enough to actually  _ learn _ about it and put in the leg work to make sure we were both happy, aware, consenting. I think exploring it together could be something great. But we don’t really know each other at all, really. 

"And...well...Clyde, you seem like such a nice guy. Genuinely. And I like you. But if I do this with you, and I really do think I want to, you need to know something. For me, it’s about a lot more than just being bossed or tossed around during sex. I need something deeper than that. I need -  _ God _ , I don’t even know how to explain it. It feels ridiculous. I’ve never said it out loud before.”

Clyde noses your hairline at your temple and hums “Mmm. I understand that feelin’. I ain’t never talked about none of this with nobody either. No pressure, but I promise you whatever you say to me ain’t gonna scare me off, or make me want you any less than I do right now. I ain't gonna laugh or judge you for it. We all have our things.”

You take a deep breath and kiss the hollow of his throat on your exhale. His warm, spicy scent washes over your senses and helps keep you calm.

“It’s just...every decision I've made in my life has been analyzed to the point of exhaustion, and then analyzed a bit more for precaution. And not just the big choices, either. It takes me 20 minutes to choose which type of peanut butter I want at the grocery store. I spend half an hour deciding which route I'm going to take into town to run errands. I have to plan out my entire day in advance or else I crumble under the weight of indecision and end up doing nothing instead because I can't figure out what to do first, or which order would be most efficient, or what would take the most time and so on. By the time I figure it out, the day is gone. Doesn’t matter how big or small the choices are. I freeze. Took me 3 months just to decide what kind of car to buy. 

"Sometimes, I just want someone else to make the decision for me. Not always, and maybe not for big life things. But sometimes. I don't want to decide what to cook for dinner, which groceries to buy, which dress to wear, what kind of sex we're having. I want someone to tell me to drink more water, to do the driving so I don't have to overthink it, to instruct me to get on my knees and wait patiently with my mouth open and eyes closed so I know exactly what to do, to make all those little decisions that run ruts into my overanalytical brain. It’s just - I’ve been lookin’ after myself since far before I shoulda been, you know? It’d be nice for someone to look after me for a change. It sounds ridiculous, I know; like I need someone else to be a person for me because I can't figure out how to do it myself.”

Clyde cuts you off with a grunt that makes you shake in his lap. “Hush, now. Ain’t nothin’ ridiculous about any of that. You ain’t less of a person just because you know what you want. And, well, maybe you’re wantin’ exactly what I’m lookin’ to give. That sounds like a  _ dream _ to me."

That certainly wasn't what you were expecting to hear. You lean back at that and look up at Clyde with your eyebrows slightly raised.

"Really? You'd want that? It wouldn't be a burden, too much responsibility?”

Clyde is shaking his head before you even finish the sentence. He snorts a short laugh and says "No. Never. You know how long I've been dreamin' of havin' a sweet lil thing to fuss after and spoil rotten? Hmph. You know how  _ proud _ I'd be walkin' 'round ever day, knowing you was walkin' 'round out there too, taken care of, not worryin', well-fed, satisfied - maybe even walkin' a bit funny - 'cause of  _ me? _ A dream. Somethin' I stopped thinkin' I'd have a long time ago."

He pauses for just a beat, adjusts. You can feel it then, his growing erection making itself known against your ass. Guess he wasn't lying, then.

"Y'know, when I was on my way back from my last deployment, before the explosion, I thought I was ready. Had a plan for returnin' to the civilian world and alluh that. Read all about how hard it could be to adjust, but I felt prepared, I reckon. Felt like I could come back home and really take control of the rest of my life. Reckon that was one good thing about the military y'know - appreciatin' attention to detail, controllin' what ya know, plannin'. I was ready. But then - suddenly I wasn't anymore. Woke up in a hospital with all my plans out the window and any shred of control I thought I had over my life was ripped away right along with my hand. I was lost for a while there. If it weren't for Mellie and Jimmy and Sadie, well I ain't sure if I woulda made it. But I did, eventually. The bar helped a lot, gave me some purpose. It wasn't what I imagined but it's good. I still feel ungrounded most days though, floatin' around half empty. Missin' somethin',  _ wantin' _ somethin' _ , _ but not really bein' able to put my finger on it. Thought maybe I just needed to find someone, fuck someone at least. And it helped, some. Until it didn’t. Until I was  _ too much,  _ or  _ too intense,  _ or my personal favorite:  _ too worried about all the little things. _ Like the little things ain’t all I got left to fuss over. I can’t control the Curse, or the explosion, or any of the big things that happen in this world, or all the things I can’t do anymore, but I  _ can  _ control the little things. I  _ wanna _ fuss over dinner and groceries and make all the plans. I  _ wanna _ make lists and plans to explain all the things I’m gonna do  _ to  _ and  _ with  _ you and your body.” he pauses at that, fully hard at this point, and takes a deep breath, grinding himself against your ass just the slightest bit. He all but whispers the last part in your ear.

“I wanna know that you trust me enough that you’d willingly give me that control, not just ‘cause I need it, but for both of us. A dream, it really would be a dream.”

You smile into his neck and take a deep breath of your own. You grind back against his length at your ass, pushing him deeper between your cheeks before you lean up just enough to notch the head of his cock against your entrance. You're already wet, though truthfully you're not sure if you've stopped dripping since sitting in his lap this morning. The flushed tip of him slips into your with ease, and you both gasp as the sensation.

“ _ You’re _ the dream, Clyde Logan.” you whisper back before you drop your hips, seating him fully inside you in one quick motion. 

You ride him slowly, deliberately, savoring every spark of pleasure that spikes between you as his cock stretches and strokes every bump and ridge in its wake. Clyde's lips find yours and you half collapse against his broad chest, arms winding around his shoulders again as you kiss sloppy and slow, tongues half lolled as they roll against each other. 

Clyde braces his left forearm against your back to help guide you down over and over onto his cock while his right hand snakes down between you to thumb at your clit - long, slow circles to match the pace of your thrusts. With his hand flat against your mound, he thrusts up into you a bit harder and gasps into your mouth. 

"Mmm. Can feel myself inside you. Fuck." He groans and leaves a wet kiss at the side of your mouth, thrusting into you from below with more depth and urgency than before. His pace at your clit increases, and you feel the warmth of your impending orgasm blooming through your limbs. 

You pull Clyde tighter against you, rocking into his thrusts, chasing that warmth, each thrust leaving you breathless and gasping. 

"Clyde, m'so close. Please." you whisper against the side of his face, his facial hair rubbing against your cheek with every jostled movement.

He moans in response, his thumb circling your clit relentless as he bites into the crook of your neck with a growl. The sudden sting is the extra stimulation that tips you right over the edge into white hot bliss, your cunt clenching hard around his cock. You collapse against Clyde's chest, panting your orgasm into his ear with a silent shuddered exhale. He just holds you to his chest and continues fucking up into you, slow and deep, whispering sweet words and praise into your ear. 

"So good. Can't believe you're real. Can't believe I'm  _ inside _ you. So much I wanna do with you. So much, so good, I - _augh_!"

Clyde comes with you held tight against him, hips stuttering to a stall deep inside you, a long drawn out moan on his lips. After a moment, you look up at him and push his sweat soaked hair out of his face with a smile and plant a wet kiss on his mouth.

"Clyde, I think we're gonna have a lot of fun together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter specific tags/tw/cw: mentions of past bad sexual experiences, mentions of anxiety re:decision making, not much really just being vulnerable and honest and smut
> 
> oh look more sex  
> and let's just pretend that a condom was used here - i just didn't feel like writing it. safe sex is the best sex, y'all!
> 
> next chapter we're gonna see how y'all deal with being apart from one another, and we'll meet mellie! 
> 
> your comments have been so delightful! i appreciate the love y'all are showing for this little story that's been rolling around in my head. comments, kudos, and constructive criticism is always welcome! you can even come yell at me on twitter @sexnachos


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